I hadn't objected when Archie asked me to settle Zac for his nap. Regardless of his origins, the baby was innocent. His presence was merely a tool for his selfish parents, and I couldn’t bring myself to hate him for that.

And yet, as I cradled him in my arms, I couldn't ignore the way my chest ached. Looking at Zac was like staring directly at their betrayal. At the night they had spent together, tangled in passion, exchanging whispered promises and sweat, conceiving the child now nestled in my embrace.

I had seen enough in the way Archie looked at Claire—so deeply, so reverently. The gaze that had once belonged to me was now hers entirely.

Soft footsteps approached, the sound of heels tapping against the marble floor in a careful, deliberate rhythm. I didn’t need to turn my head to know who it was.

"Wendy," a sweet voice greeted me.

I exhaled slowly, refusing to let her presence unnerve me.

Claire’s footsteps echoed closer, her stiletto heels clicking against the floor. Yet, she moved carefully—as if not wanting to wake Zac.

How motherly.

"I already know, Claire," I murmured, keeping my voice level. "There's no need to pretend anymore."

"Ah, Wendy," she sighed dramatically, though her cunning eyes never left mine. "Archie and I love each other. We were always meant to be together."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Is that so? Then why did you leave him at the blessing ceremony? Why drag me into this farce of a marriage, only to return years later acting as if nothing happened?"

Claire folded her arms across her chest, her expression unreadable.

"You should have realised by now, Wendy—you were never meant to be with Archie."

My grip on Zac tightened, but I remained composed.

"I never asked for him," I said. "It was you who left. You made this bed, Claire. Now, don’t act like you’re some innocent victim."

If Zac hadn’t been here, I would have screamed those words at her.

"Stop playing the victim?" Claire scoffed. "How could I, when you ruined my life? When you killed my father?"

I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "Me? Your father died in an accident, Claire. I had nothing to do with it."

Claire’s eyes burned with resentment. "He wouldn’t have been in that accident if not for your father’s ridiculous request!"

I closed my eyes, inhaling sharply.

The past came rushing back—years ago, when Claire and I had been young. When we had been friends. When our fathers had worked side by side at Grandfather James’ company—Archie’s grandfather.

I still didn’t understand where her hatred stemmed from. All because my father had made a request? Even though he, too, had died that day?

My father had been suffering from a rare disease. Claire’s father—his younger brother—had spent days searching for medicine across the city. But exhaustion took its toll. He never made it home.

And yet, Claire refused to see reason. She blamed me for everything.

"After making my father die, you took Archie away from me," she spat. "You took everything that was mine."

"I told you—I never took him from you!" My voice trembled with frustration. "And I didn’t kill your father! You need to stop blaming me for fate!"

Claire’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Fate?" she whispered. "Fate didn’t make my father get into that car that night. Fate didn’t make Archie fall for you instead of waiting for me."

I clenched my fists. "You left him. You made that choice."

Claire shrugged, then her expression darkened.

"But I’m back now," she said softly. "And I’m taking back what’s mine."

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Zac stirred, whimpering in his sleep.

Before I could react, Claire turned towards the cot, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. She smiled, stroking his tiny hand. Then, without warning, she raised her voice.

"Please, Wendy, don’t!" she cried out, her tone laced with fear.

I blinked in shock.

"Wendy—how could you?!" Claire gasped dramatically. "You were trying to hurt Zac—!"

The room spun.

"What?" My voice came out hoarse, breathless. "Bloody hell, that’s not true!"

Claire stumbled back as if recoiling in horror. And then—

Footsteps thundered down the hall.

Archie burst through the door, eyes wild. He took in the scene—Zac crying, Claire’s stricken expression—and then turned to me.

"What the hell is going on?" His sharp gaze flickered between us.

Claire hiccupped, her tears flowing effortlessly. "I was just telling Wendy the truth," she sobbed. "But she—she got angry and tried to harm Zac. I tried to stop her, but she lashed out at me instead."

My stomach twisted. "What?!"

Archie’s expression darkened as he looked at his son’s red, wailing face.

"Wendy," his voice was low, dangerous. "Tell me Claire is lying."

I opened my mouth, my mind racing for words, for anything—but Zac’s cries only grew louder.

I saw it then. The way Archie’s jaw tightened. The way his eyes burned with suspicion.

And I knew—he had already made his choice.

His voice was ice when he spoke. "I can’t believe you, Wendy."

Tears pricked my eyes. "I didn’t do anything, Archie! You have to believe me!"

Archie laughed—a sharp, bitter sound.

"Believe you?" His gaze seared into me. "How many times have I believed you, Wendy? And what has it ever given me? You couldn’t even take care of your own pregnancy—when I was so looking forward to it!"

My breath hitched.

"You weren’t looking forward to it!" I snapped, my voice breaking. "You—you killed my son for him!"

A sharp crack filled the air.

Pain exploded across my cheek.

I stumbled back, my face burning. My hands trembled as I touched my skin, realising—Archie had just slapped me.

A stunned silence fell between us.

Archie exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "I can’t do this anymore," he murmured. "I won’t do this anymore. You always play the victim, Wendy. But maybe it’s time you realise—you were never the victim at all."

I stood frozen, tears blurring my vision.

But what truly shattered me—what drove the knife deeper into my chest—was what he did next.

He turned away.

Walked to Claire.

And as I watched, powerless, he reached out—stroking Zac’s head, his touch tender, affectionate.

A family.

Their family.

As if I had never even been part of his life at all.

After that argument, I decided to leave the house and head to the Harvest Café to meet Leon and discuss my divorce from Archie. He had promised to help me erase Wendy Clark’s identity for good.

A large envelope lay on the table in front of him.

"Here," he said, shoving it towards me. "Everything you need is inside."

I hesitated before taking it, my fingers brushing against the crisp paper. Slowly, I unfolded it. Inside was a new identity card, a new passport... and the divorce papers I had been waiting for. Finally, everything was in my hands.

"Are you absolutely sure about this, Wendy?" Leon asked, his voice laced with concern.

I met his gaze with a steely stare. "There’s nothing left for me here, Leon. Archie has taken everything. Now it’s my turn."

He sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Once Wendy Clark disappears, she’s not coming back."

"I have no reason to bring her back," I muttered firmly. "Wendy Clark is dead."

Leon straightened, his expression unreadable. "Well, I’m sorry about your situation," he said. "I’ll send you the details of the plan later tonight."

I nodded and ended our meeting.

I had just climbed the stairs when a voice from the room beneath stopped me in my tracks. The door was slightly ajar, so I approached cautiously.

Archie. He was standing behind Claire, his arms wrapped around her waist in a far-too-intimate embrace.

"Oh, Claire, I’ve missed your touch so much. I feel like I’m going insane," he murmured.

Claire let out a soft chuckle. "We used to do it all the time before I had the baby, Archie."

"That was ages ago," he whined. "Don’t you feel bad for me?"

"You were always so scared Wendy would find out, yet you’ve never been able to control yourself," she teased.

I clenched my fists. So this is what they did when I wasn’t around? I should have bloody known.

Archie waved his hand dismissively. "Relax, Wendy’s not here. Come on, I can’t take it anymore."

"Just a blowjob, okay? I’m still recovering."

I watched as Archie lit up like a kid being given his favourite toy. I had seen enough.

Heart pounding, I turned on my heel, ready to escape to my room.

But once again, I was stopped in my tracks.

"See? A woman who can’t even carry a pregnancy to term, running off instead of taking care of her husband and child? How disgraceful!"

I turned around to face Charlotte Knight—my mother-in-law—wearing an expression of pure contempt. My chest felt hollow, as if a part of me had been ripped away. The old woman stood a few steps away, her gaze filled with unfiltered hatred.

"You couldn’t even take care of your own husband. Archie marrying you was the biggest mistake of his life."

My hands instinctively curled into fists, but I let her continue her verbal assault. No matter what I did, I would always be the villain in her eyes. I wanted to scream that it wasn’t my fault.

That I had done everything to protect that baby.

But what was the point? To her, I was nothing but a disgrace to the Knight family.

Before I could say a word, Archie’s deep voice rang out behind me.

"Mum, that’s enough!"

I turned to see him striding towards us, his jaw tight.

"Wendy just had a miscarriage," he snapped. "Leave her alone. Don’t make it worse."

Charlotte snorted, crossing her arms. "You’re too soft, Archie. If you keep defending her, how will you explain this to the public? You’re the heir to this family, and now you have no child! The Knights need an heir."

Archie ran a frustrated hand down his face. I saw the hesitation in his eyes, the weight of it all pressing down on him, as if I were a burden he couldn’t shake.

"I’ll take care of it, Mum."

"You should be proud to carry the Knight name. Don’t disappoint me, Archie." With that, Charlotte scoffed and walked away.

I turned to enter my room when Archie’s sharp voice cut through the air.

"Where are you going? Running away from your responsibilities as Zac’s mother?"

I stopped, my hand hovering over the door handle.

"Zac’s been crying all day, and Claire’s exhausted," he continued.

I looked away. "I just needed some fresh air."

Archie scoffed, His lips twisting in mockery. "Fresh air, huh? With another man?"

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Before I could demand an explanation, Archie threw a stack of printed photos at me. They scattered across the floor, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw myself in them—with Leon.

Where the hell did he get these?

"You always act like I’m the bastard here," Archie seethed. "But is this what you do behind my back?"

"No, Archie, I—"

"How many men have you been sneaking around with? Is that why you lost the baby? Did you spread your legs for them so much you couldn’t even keep our child?"

A stunned silence followed his words. The world around me blurred with fury. Without thinking, I swung my hand, slapping him hard across the face. The crack echoed in the hallway.

Archie turned back to me slowly, his gaze ice-cold. So cold it could freeze hell over.

Before either of us could speak, a soft voice rang out.

"Archie…"

Claire.

My stomach twisted as she sauntered towards us, draped in a delicate dress that hugged her curves. She barely spared me a glance before fixing her honeyed gaze on Archie.

"I think Zac misses his daddy," she purred. "He won’t stop crying, no matter what I do."

Archie frowned. "Didn’t he just fall asleep?"

"He didn’t sleep well."

Archie sighed heavily, then turned and walked off towards Zac’s room.

Claire and I watched him go in silence. As soon as the door shut behind him, she turned to me with a sly smirk.

"Do you really think you can hold onto this marriage, Wendy?" she whispered, stepping closer. "The more you cling to him, the more I’ll make sure he’s mine. You’ll never get what you don’t deserve."

I balled my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. I knew exactly what she was doing.

My eyes followed her as she moved towards the coffee table, picking up a small ceramic pot. She glanced at me again, her smirk widening.

"You should have died with your parents a long time ago," she sneered, taking another step closer.

Then, suddenly, she swung the flowerpot at me.

I dodged, and the pot crashed to the floor with a loud smash. My breath caught. What the fuck?

"You’re insane, Claire!"

But she wasn’t done. With a twisted look of determination, she knelt down, picked up a shard of glass, and—before I could react—dragged it across her own forehead. A thin line of blood welled up as she let out a sharp cry.

Footsteps pounded towards us.

"What happened?!" Archie’s voice.

I turned to explain, but Claire was already whimpering pathetically, clutching at her forehead.

"Archie," she sniffled, "Wendy threw a flowerpot at me!"

I froze.

What?!

Before I could protest, Archie was already at her side, gripping her shoulders anxiously.

"Are you alright?"

Claire bit her lip, looking utterly heartbroken. "I don’t know why she got so angry… I just wanted to talk…"

My whole body trembled with rage. "I didn’t do it!"

Archie’s furious eyes snapped to me. "Wendy!"

"I swear, I didn’t! She attacked me first and cut herself—"

Claire whimpered, burying her face in his chest.

"I know she’s mad at me for spending time with Zac," she murmured. "But I never stopped her from holding him. I was only trying to help… I’d do anything for the heir to your family."

Archie fixed me with a sharp glare, his voice as cold as ice.

"It was you who slipped in the bathroom, Wendy. You were the one who wasn’t careful, and now you’re blaming Claire?"

I sat on the edge of the bed, my body still aching from the fall.

"You’re not a good wife," he continued without hesitation, his words cutting deep. "You can’t even look after yourself properly. You took vitamins recklessly without consulting the doctor, then refused to care for Zac. Claire was only helping, but instead of being grateful, you lashed out at her?"

I looked up at him, my eyes burning. Not a good wife?

My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. "Not a good wife?" My voice trembled, thick with the anger I was barely restraining. "And what about you? Were you there when I fell? Did you even bother to check what was in those vitamins I took?"

Archie exhaled sharply, as if I was being insufferable. "The family doctor prescribed them to you. They’re just vitamins to support your health—not that it seems to have helped much in the end. And as for the bathroom incident… that was purely your fault."

I let out a cold, bitter laugh. "My fault? You really think, out of everyone in this house, I’m the only one who could ‘accidentally’ take a tumble?"

His expression tightened with frustration. "You always want to blame someone else. If you’d been more careful, none of this would have happened."

I held his gaze.

A liar.

A traitor.

Before I could think twice, my hand darted to the dressing table, fingers wrapping around a pair of scissors. Without hesitation, I dragged the blade across my wrist.

A sharp sting. Then, warm blood spilled onto the floor.

Archie’s eyes went wide in horror. "Wendy! What the hell are you doing?!"

I let the scissors clatter to the floor, my vision blurring. "Just making amends." My voice was eerily calm. "You said I wasn’t a good wife, wasn’t a decent mum… so this is my punishment, isn’t it?"

I staggered towards the door, blood trailing behind me.

Just as I reached it, a soft, artificial voice rang out.

"Archie… I’m scared. Wendy… she’s dangerous."

I froze. Slowly, I turned my head.

Claire was leaning against Archie, gripping his sleeve, her expression one of perfect, rehearsed fear.

Archie hesitated, his gaze flicking between us.

Claire tugged on his arm, voice frail. "Archie, I feel dizzy… Can you take me to the hospital?"

Archie looked at me for a long moment. Then, as always… he made his choice.

He wrapped his arm around Claire and led her away.

I stood there, watching him walk off with another woman while I bled right in front of him.

At that moment, my phone vibrated. A message from Leon.

[I’ve finalised the plan. Tomorrow, go to the Thames bridge. I’ll take care of the rest.]

The message was like a breath of fresh air. Soon… I’ll be free of Archie’s life. Somehow.

The next morning, Archie still hadn’t come home.

I packed my things—all the designer dresses, jewellery, and gifts he had given me—and tossed them into a suitcase. Then, I retrieved our marriage certificate, the one I had once cherished so dearly, and ripped it apart. I let the pieces fall into the sink, set them alight, and watched them burn to ash.

As the last embers flickered, my phone vibrated again. A message from Archie.

[Wendy, I’ve booked the venue for our wedding celebration. My assistant will pick you up shortly.]

I stared at the message. Then, out of curiosity, I opened social media.

Claire had posted a photo.

She and Archie sat at a restaurant—the same one where our wedding celebration was supposed to be planned—holding hands across the table. Zac was in a stroller beside them, fast asleep.

My heart no longer ached.

I didn’t reply to Archie’s message. Instead, I took the signed divorce papers and handed them to a courier, instructing them to deliver them directly to the banquet.

Once everything was set, I called Leon.

"I’m ready."

Taking my Mini Cooper’s keys from the dressing table, I drove towards the Thames bridge.

In the car, parked not far from the bridge, I watched them on the small dashboard screen.

Archie was in the VIP lounge with Claire and Zac, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

So, this is what waiting for me looks like, is it, Archie?

I glanced down at my phone. Dozens of missed calls from him.

Oh, so now you’re desperate?

With Leon’s help, I had hacked into the restaurant’s CCTV. I’d also paid off a waiter to plant a listening device in their room. Now, I saw and heard everything perfectly.

The VIP room door burst open. Thomas, Archie’s assistant, rushed in, breathless and pale.

"Sir, Mrs Knight isn’t in the penthouse."

Archie’s brows knitted. "What do you mean?"

Thomas swallowed and placed a medium-sized box on the table. "I… I found this in the courtyard. Alongside some burnt remains that were still fresh."

Archie exchanged glances with Claire before prying the box open. His face went rigid.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, he knocked the box over, sending its contents scattering across the floor.

"What the fuck is this?!"

Photographs spilled everywhere.

Shots of Archie and Claire at a hotel. On holiday. Kissing in a nightclub. Some of their most intimate moments.

Amongst the pile, a copy of Zac’s birth certificate landed face up. Archie's name was listed as the biological father. Claire as the mother.

And at the very top—a white envelope.

Inside, my signed divorce papers.

The room turned deathly silent.

Archie clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he glared at the evidence.

Thomas shifted uneasily. "Sir…"

"What now?!" Archie barked, his temper flaring.

Thomas hesitated before shakily handing over his tablet. "You need to see this."

Archie snatched it, eyes widening as he took in the screen. A stock market graph was plummeting.

OAK GROUP SHARES TANKING

And beneath the headline, a more damning line of text:

"CEO SCANDAL EXPOSED! INFIDELITY & SECRET CHILD SHAKE COMPANY REPUTATION"

Archie went completely still. His face drained of colour.

Claire gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

"No… no, this can’t be happening," Archie whispered.

Before he could fully process the damage, Thomas spoke again, voice trembling.

"Sir… there’s more bad news."

Archie whipped around, eyes blazing. "For fuck’s sake, just say it, Thomas!"

Thomas took a shaky breath. "Mrs Knight’s car… fell from the Thames Bridge. A sixty-eight-foot drop. The police and rescue teams are on the scene."

A cold, suffocating silence blanketed the room.

Claire clung to Archie’s arm, her nails digging in, but he didn’t react. His hands were still clenched, veins bulging under the pressure.

I smiled faintly.

From behind the wheel, I glanced at my phone one last time.

The wreckage of my Mini Cooper, floating in the murky depths of the Thames, was displayed across the news.

Goodbye, Archie.